


Full of Anger and Hope

by Mixxy



Series: Close Enough to Normal [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Accidentally charming Poe Dameron, Age Difference, Backstory, Because everyone has a crush on Poe, Growing Up Together, In a way, Kid Fic, M/M, Mind Manipulation, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Prequel, Smol Ben has a crush on Poe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6240703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixxy/pseuds/Mixxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet when Ben is six and Poe is thirteen. </p>
<p>Ben is ten when he feels the first fluttering in his chest at the sight of him.</p>
<p>He's fourteen when Poe breaks his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full of Anger and Hope

They meet when Ben is six and Poe is thirteen. He’s come with his mother to Poe’s parents’ home. He think they’re friends of his mother, but it’s hard to keep track of who is a war friend and who is a political alliance and who is a friend of his father’s that he might not be allowed to talk to, depending on how many star systems they’re wanted in currently.

“Poe,” the woman says, touching the older boy on the shoulder. He’s got dark hair and white crooked teeth. “Why don’t you show Ben the tree?”

Poe considers Ben, who tries to look both taller and older. He isn’t sure it works. “Okay,” he says, grinning at Ben. “Come on.”

He takes Ben’s hand and leads him away, leaving their parents to talk. “This tree is my favorite place,” he tells Ben as they walk a narrow path through the forest. “I don’t show it to just anyone.”

The tree itself is huge and hard to ignore, so Ben doubts it’s exactly a secret, but he understands the honor all the same. Poe hauls himself up on a branch like it’s second nature and leans back down, offering both arms to Ben. Ben is a pretty good climber himself, formed from joining his dad on top of the Falcon from as early as he can remember, so he only needs a little help to get up on the branch.

They end up in a small alcove, hidden by leaves, next to the trunk. Poe reaches in to a hole in the bark and pulls out a small metal box, which he opens to reveal two caramel cookies. He offers one to Ben. “Don’t tell your mom.”

“I won’t,” Ben says indignantly, and crunches into the cookie. It’s peaceful up here, and he can see why Poe likes it so much. He lays a palm on the branch and feels something, thrumming and breathing around them. It nearly knocks him off his seat. “Poe! D’you feel that?”

“Huh?”

He takes Poe’s hand and presses it against the branch as well. “ _That._ Don’t you feel it?”

Poe’s brow furrows. “Uh, no. I don’t feel anything.” He looks at Ben again, carefully taking stock of him. “You’re weird.”

Offended, Ben scowls and lets go of his hand, crossing his arms. “It’s okay,” Poe continues, smiling at him once again. “I like you anyway. Come on, let’s climb higher.”

 

* * *

 

The second time he sees him, Ben is eight and Poe is fifteen. Poe is at the base as a visit of sorts- he’s training as a pilot, Ben’s mother says when he asks, on one of the remote schools, and their class is staying on base for a week to see if this is really what they want to do for their lives.

Ben is lucky. He doesn’t have to make decisions like that. He’s known what he was going to do ever since his uncle Luke sat him down and explained what that energy was he felt pulsing around him all the time. He went away with him not long after that. He was older starting his training than most of his classmates, but the Force comes so naturally to him that he caught up easily.

He’s only on the base himself for a little while, visiting his parents for a few days. But he remembers Poe, and he seeks him out when he has spare time.

“Hi,” he says, climbing up on a seat next to them at their table in the caf. “What’s going on?”

One of the boys across from him rolls his eyes. “Why is there a little kid here?”

Before Ben’s anger can flare too brightly, Poe slings an arm around his shoulders. “Hey. This is Ben, he’s cool, okay? I know him.”

Ben feels smug with his acceptance and shoots a look at the boy across the table, who tsks and goes back to his food. Poe’s hand finds Ben’s padawan braid and he gives an amused snort. “This is a good look for you, kid. Very…iconic.”

“I’m really good at training,” Ben tells him, swinging his feet. “I got levitation before anyone else in my class.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Poe says, and Ben preens.

 

* * *

 Their paths cross a few more times and by the time Ben is ten and Poe is seventeen, they’ve struck up an easy rapport. They’re back on Poe’s home planet. This time, Ben is here as a student, meant to gain something from the very tree they sat in and ate cookies in as children. He’s learned that what he felt that day, humming under his fingertips, was Force sensitivity. From the tree.

The universe is a strange place.

The energy coming from the tree is tranquil, calming, a sensation of roots and gentle growth. Ben rests his cheek against the bark of the trunk and lets it wash into him.

The half-remembered dreams have been coming more frequently, and the whispers have been getting louder. He still can’t make sense of them, like a conversation he isn’t meant to hear. Every now and again he catches a word, _destiny_ or _power_ or _greatness_ or _legacy_. It sets him on edge, makes him tired. The peaceful energy of the tree is a balm on his ragged consciousness.

Eventually he becomes aware of another energy presence in the clearing. He reaches out with the Force, eyes still closed, and gets an impression of warmth and familiarity. He smiles against the bark. “Hello, Poe.”

“Hey, Ben.” Ben opens his eyes then, and sees Poe standing at the edge of the clearing, watching him. He must have come straight from school, because he’s still in his uniform, a smear of motor oil on his cheek. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“No.”

There is more silence for a couple of minutes, only punctuated by the sounds of the forest. It’s not an uncomfortable silence. After awhile, with a rustle, Poe joins Ben by the tree. “Is everything alright, Ben?”

Ben squints at him. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. You look tired.”

Poe is intuitive. Even though Ben can’t sense a lick of Force sensitivity from him, he wonders if spending so much time with the tree as a youngling affected him somehow. “Training is difficult. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Poe doesn’t press, and Ben appreciates it.

“You’re graduating soon, aren’t you?”

“Next week.” Poe’s grin is bright enough to sense even if he wasn’t looking at him. “I’m gonna fly for the resistance, just like your dad.” When Ben doesn’t comment, Poe looks up at the great expanse of the tree. “You like this tree too, huh? Remember when we came up here as kids? And I had to help you up?”

“Only a little,” Ben argues.

Poe laughs, and the sound is bright. “Yeah, only a little.”

Ben thinks for a moment, and then takes Poe’s wrist in his hand and presses his palm against the bark, just like he had back then. “Just…listen. Try to feel.”

Ben closes his eyes and tries to focus on enhancing the feeling of the tree’s energy, of pushing it out towards Poe, of resting on Poe’s mind just enough to show him. He hears Poe’s gasp, and his fingers flex under Ben’s. “Oh. Oh, _Ben.”_

He exhales slowly and withdraws his efforts gradually, not wanting to shock Poe with an abrupt silence. The stunt leaves him exhausted. He’s powerful, but he’s still learning.

“That was the tree,” Poe says, and when Ben looks over his eyes are stunned, lips parted in surprise. “Wow. Thank you, kid. That was…wow.”

Despite the whispers, the always-underlying sense of uneasiness, the tiredness, Ben finds himself smiling back, as eager as when they met. Poe’s hand is warm under his and he feels an odd tugging in his chest that he isn’t sure how to identify.

 

* * *

 

Ben is twelve and the fact that he didn’t get a choice about training to be a Jedi is beginning to feel less “lucky” and more like a trap. The whispers have become louder. He can understand them, most times. He’s more powerful than even the older padawans but Luke’s praise is becoming more and more rare, replaced by admonishment and concerned looks when he thinks Ben can’t see him.

Being back on base doesn’t provide any comfort. His mother gives him the same sort of looks that Luke does, and his father is- his father has never been interested in acting like more of a father than a friend. But their presence as a family is required at a formal function to celebrate the anniversary of the victory at the Battle of Endor, so Ben is back at the base nevertheless.

Specifically, he’s back in his room, playing tinny music from small speakers and feeling like his limbs are too lanky for him.

Laughter bursts from the direction of his doorway and he whips around, mortified. Especially when he sees who it is.

Poe Dameron, nineteen and- unlike Ben- actually grown into his limbs, leans against his open door. Ben knew that, as a pilot-in-training, he would logically be on base somewhere, but he hadn’t been prepared to see him. “So, uh, what’s happening, Ben?”

Ben’s face burns. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

He takes a deep breath and straightens his back, trying to look haughty. “I’m required to go along to a commemorative ball with my parents. And- I’m too old to stand on someone’s feet and pass that off as dancing. It’s not- dignified. So-” he gestures at his pad, where a holo of a couple slow dancing is looping to the music.

Poe chuckles, and Ben scowls at him. “I’m not laughing at you, kid. I’m _not._ ” He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It makes sense. You’re a young gentleman now, right? Gotta sweep those lady dignitaries off their feet?”

Ben grunts an affirmation, hands stuck in his pockets and feeling incredibly stupid. He looks up at the sound of the door clicking closed. “Poe?”

“Don’t say I never did you a favor, kid.” He steps closer, until he’s right in front of Ben.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna teach you how to dance.”

“ _You_ know how to dance?”

“Do you gotta sound like it’s so ridiculous? I’m wounded.” At a further incredulous look from Ben, Poe sighs. “Okay, I don’t exactly know how to waltz, but I can give you a quick tutorial on how not to embarrass yourself when you have to actually dance in contact with someone. And- what you were doing before, that wasn’t it.”

Ben winces. “Okay. So- how do I do this?”

“Alright, c’mere.” Poe offers his hand. Ben eyes it warily. “It’s not gonna bite, Solo. Just take it.”

Ben does, gingerly, and without further warning Poe pulls him close, his other hand pressing solidly on his shoulder. “Put your hand on my waist.”

“What?” Ben’s voice cracks a little. Poe either does not notice, or he politely pretends that he doesn’t.

“You’re the guy, so it’ll be assumed you’re leading. My hand goes on your shoulder, yours goes on my waist. Above the hip, any lower and you gotta buy me dinner.”

Ben cracks a smile at Poe’s quip, but it feels strained. He takes his free hand- why are his palms suddenly clammy?- and rests it on Poe’s hip, gently, like Poe will break if he holds him any tighter. He’s warm against his hand, even through the layers of clothes. Ben can smell him, cologne and oil and coffee.

“There you go.” Ben lifts his eyes to meet Poe’s, a warm oaky brown. “That’s good, Ben, that’s good. Now we just- come on, move your feet. Just move with your partner.”

They find a rhythm, moving in slow circles. Ben keeps looking down at their feet, because he thinks he should watch, but also because his face feels warm, and he isn’t sure what to do about that.

“That’s all there is to it,” Poe says, and Ben can hear the smile in his voice. “Until the song ends. It’s nothing fancy, but it should get you through the ball alright. I mean, unless you’ve got a _special_ partner, then you dance a little different.”

Ben swallows thickly. His mouth feels dry. “What do you do then?”

“Kinda the same thing, but closer and more swaying than anything else.”

“Can you show me?”

Poe’s eyebrows go up. “Do you have someone in mind?” he sounds genuinely surprised.

Ben can feel the heat of his hand on his shoulder seeping through his clothes. “Maybe.”

Poe breaks into a grin. He got his teeth fixed sometime ago, Ben notes. They aren’t crooked anymore. “Ben, you little _Romeo_! Oh, of course you do. That’s _great_. Alright, I’ll show you, Casanova, but you gotta give me the details later.” Ben laughs nervously. Poe’s enthusiasm this closely is intoxicating. “Alright, so it’s sorta like this, but you don’t hold hands.” He lets go of Ben’s hand, and Ben tries not to miss it.

Especially because Poe gets even closer, draping both arms around Ben’s neck. “And you just put both hands around my waist, okay?”

His arms fall naturally around Poe’s midsection, and then there’s no separation between him and the pilot. “And then you just sorta sway, okay?” Poe’s chin is on Ben’s shoulder. “Jesus, kid, you’re tall already, and you’re not even done growing. That’s unfair.”

Ben can feel Poe’s breath warm on his neck. His chest squeezes.

Then Poe is stepping away, clapping Ben on the shoulder like a teammate. “And that’s pretty much it!”

Ben tries to look casual. “I’m still not very good at it.”

“Some girls like that. The inexperienced thing. You’ll come across as sincere.” He gives Ben a grin and oh, everything is clicking into place. Ben has the sudden, overwhelming urge to jerk forward and press his lips to Poe’s. He doesn’t, paralyzed by the revelation. “You’re gonna be a heartbreaker, kid. Those ladies won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Ben is still reeling when Poe’s watch beeps. “Ah, I gotta get to a meeting. Tell me how it goes with your lady friend, okay?”

“Okay, Poe,” he says, and he’s so helplessly gone. “Thanks for the lesson.”

 

* * *

 Ben is fourteen and it’s too loud in his head. The last conflict he had with Luke ended with screaming- well, him screaming at Luke, and Luke standing there, with that infuriating calm, until Ben’s rage had grown too hot and he had flung out with the Force, only to find himself pressed face down on the ground.

_“I am not your enemy,”_ Luke had said, as if he wasn’t pinning Ben like a butterfly in a corkboard. _“You must control your emotions, Ben, your pride-“_

Ben suspects that the weekend home is something of a peace offering, intended to cool Ben’s temper and bring him back ready to be humbled. It isn’t working. Ben’s father likes to laugh things off, never take them seriously. By contrast, his mother follows conflict like a dog with the scent of a fox. She picks, and picks, and won’t let go. He doesn’t get a moment of peace, and his father isn’t interested in anything that isn’t a ship or retelling stories of his glory days.

He climbs to the roof of an engineering building for a minute of silence. The sun sinks lower behind the line of trees as Ben sits, watching the light change.

He feels so much. He wants it to stop. He’s so tired of being powerless.

He senses the presence behind him before he hears the door open. When he turns, Poe Dameron, twenty-one and the new hotshot pilot of the resistance, is emerging onto the roof. “What are you doing here?”

Poe walks over to him and just looks over the sunset for a minute. “Hello to you too, Ben. Can I sit?”

Ben shrugs. “Yeah.”

For a moment, they just sit, watching the sun inch down bit by bit. “How’s training?”

Another shrug. He really doesn’t want to talk about training right now. “I heard you led a suicide mission with no fatalities last month.”

Poe huffs out a laugh. “I can’t take the credit. I’m only as good as my team.”

“You’re modest.”

“Oh kriff, no I’m not. I’m the least modest guy you could find.”

“I grew up with _Han Solo_ as a father. You’re not the least modest guy I’ve ever met.”

Poe bursts into surprised giggles. “ _Geez,_ Ben, take no prisoners, huh?”

Ben sits back, resting his weight on his palms. “So why _are_ you up here? This isn’t exactly a social hotspot.”

Poe bites his lip and the sight makes Ben’s stomach swoop. Then he slips a hand in his jacket and comes out with a cigarette. “Don’t tell the general.”

“I won’t.” He watches Poe pull a lighter out of his pocket and set the end of the cigarette glowing. The act of taking a drag and exhaling a cloud of smoke is oddly sensual when it’s Poe Dameron’s lips doing it. Ben looks away, and finds himself asking, “can I? You know, take a puff?”

Poe pauses, cigarette halfway to his lips. “Have you ever smoked before?”

“No.” He gets the sense that it would be obvious if he lied.

After a moment, the cigarette is extended in offering. “What am I here for if not to be a bad influence, huh? Corrupting the youth.”

Ben would like to be corrupted by Poe in more ways than he’d like to admit. He tries not to think of that when their fingers brush as he takes the cigarette. He especially tries not to think of it while he wraps his lips around the end, about how Poe’s lips were right there a moment ago.

He inhales. It hurts, and his eyes water as he tries not to cough. He likes the burn in his lungs; it’s a nice distraction. He exhales, smoke curling over his tongue, and feels a little lighter. But he doesn’t know if that’s the cigarette or the closeness to Poe.

“Don’t make it a habit, kid,” Poe says as he takes it back. “I don’t think the Jedi would approve.”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ what the Jedi think,” Ben says, the vitriol in his voice spilling out without intention.

“Woah, _woah._ ” Ben pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them, hugging his knees to his chest, trying to ignore the shock in Poe’s voice. “Where the hell did that come from? Ben- Ben, would you look at me?”

His hand is on Ben’s arm then, like a brand. He can’t help but look at him then, at brown eyes filled with sincere concern. “Ben, is everything okay with training?”

“Yeah.”

“No it isn’t. I know you, Ben, and this isn’t how you are. Something’s wrong. Talk to me.”

Emotion is raging up inside him, the kind of emotions that Jedi aren’t supposed to let effect them, and Ben thinks he’s about to combust from the inside out. He scrubs a hand over his face, trying to force them down. There’s so much happening, so much he’s been keeping inside for so long. “I just- I don’t- I’m-”

“It’s okay, Ben. You can tell me.”

For a second, he looks into those deep brown eyes and nearly does. Nearly tells him about the whispers and the dreams, more vivid every night, the battle that rages within him. He can’t tell Poe. But he wants to, he wants to lay this burden on someone else so badly. “I’m so much more powerful than Luke lets me be. Much more powerful than any other padawan. I can do so much _more_. But he insists on treating us all equally, on keeping me on the same level as _them._ I’m treading water, just wasting what I can do, because- he won’t let me do all I can, and I just- he won’t let me do it, nobody will- they won’t let me be _great-_ ” He looks at Poe desperately, wild-eyed, searching for some sort of companionship.

Poe nods as he talks, begins to rub soothing circles on Ben’s shoulder. Ben leans into the touch without thinking. “I get it, Ben, I get it. You’ve got your wings, you want to fly. You just want to fly.”

Poe understands, he _understands_. The sun has sunk behind the horizon and the light has turned red, spilling over Poe’s face like blood. Ben is burning from the inside out, too much pressure in a tight container, and Poe is looking at him like he understands the turmoil inside him. It’s always been Poe.

Ben surges forward and presses his mouth desperately to Poe’s. He cups his face, stubble rough against his palms, and all but trembles from the connection. It’s so good, it feels so right.

He’s so lost in how beautifully right it feels that he is only brought out of it by Poe’s hands resting on his chest. Pushing him back, gently but firmly. It forces their lips to separate and Ben’s eyes flutter open- when had he closed them?

And his heart lurches to a stop.

Poe isn’t looking at him with affection, or desire, or even raw lust. And it isn’t horror, or disgust, or anything Ben had initially feared.

It’s something even worse than those. It’s pity.

Ben feels something cold crawling up his throat as he looks at Poe, eyes wide, as vulnerable as he’s ever been. Helpless, still helpless.

“Ben,” Poe begins, and Ben wants to slap that fucking sympathetic look off his face. “Oh, Ben, I’m flattered- I really am, you’re a great guy-”

“But you don’t want me.” His voice sounds odd to his own ears.

“No, Ben, don’t take it like that- I mean, I’m an adult here, and you’re- you’re not. But it’s okay! It’s fine. I mean, when I was your age, I had _so many_ crushes on older people. So many! It’ll pass, and one day we’ll laugh abo-”

“Don’t,” Ben says, jerking back from Poe’s hands like he’s been burned. “Don’t- don’t give me that, don’t try to- to let me down nice.”

“Ben, come on.” Poe is reaching for him, and it’s what Ben wanted but not like this, and it makes him ache. “You’re gonna get a crush on someone your own age and forget all about me, it’ll happen before you know it-”

Hurt, humiliation, the white-hot anger of rejection is bubbling in him. He stands, fists clenching and unclenching. “Don’t act like I’m some child. Like I don’t know what I want.”

“Ben- of course, you’re not a _child_ , but- Ben, I’m way too old for you, you’ve got to understand that-”

“It doesn’t _matter_ , Poe, age doesn’t matter, I’m- I’m more powerful than the older padawans, more powerful than _Luke_ soon, it doesn’t matter if I’m young-” He kneels, feeling like if he can just make Poe understand this too, it’ll all fall into place. “I can get you the _stars,_ Poe- they don’t know what I can do.”

Poe shakes his head, his eyes unbearably sad. “Ben, you’ll get it once you’re a little older. We can still be friends, good friends-”

He can’t stand those words with that pitying expression and before Poe can finish his sentence he turns and runs.

 

* * *

 Ben lies in bed that night, unable to sleep. He’s shed tears of humiliation and hurt earlier, and now all that remains is the keen sting of rejection.

The whispers come again.

_You’re so powerful. Much more than they let you be._

It’s little consolation right now. All he can think of is Poe. The way he’d smiled at him when sharing his cigarette. How his lips had felt against Ben’s for that brief, glorious second.

_He doesn’t know what you are truly capable of._

That gets Ben’s attention.

_He believes you a child because they will not let you be anything more than a child. They won’t let you live up to all you can be. They are weak, scared, jealous of you._

Ben can do so much more. He could bring the stars themselves down around Poe’s feet.

_If you free yourself from them, you can do it all. Have everything your heart desires._

An image fills Ben’s mind. He isn’t sure if it’s from himself or not. It’s Poe, kneeling at Ben’s feet, his face a picture of awe and respect. And adoration. He’s whispering, low, _I had no idea how much you could do. I underestimated you. I never should have rejected you. I want to be yours, if you’ll have me._

Ben feels his anger morph into a smoldering burn, focused, intense. The whispers are right. Poe thinks he’s a child. A stupid, foolish child.

Another image in Ben’s mind. This time it’s Poe, standing around with some of the other pilots. They’re laughing and even without hearing their voices Ben knows that they’re laughing about him, about how dumb he must have been to think Poe could ever like him.

His fists clench so hard that his nails bite into his palm. Poe thinks he’s a child, and it’s not his fault. It’s- _theirs._ Everyone else. His parents. Luke. The Jedi teachings. They won’t _let_ him be as powerful and strong as he can be. They _make_ him remain a child, weak and naïve. No wonder Poe doesn’t take him seriously.

_If you’re willing to do what it takes to live up to your power,_ the voice whispers, _your legacy, you will get everything that you desire._

He sees Poe again, eyes bright, mouth laughing.

_He is meant to be yours._

He is shaking with anger.

_You know what stands between you._

Rage surges so brightly in him that the mirror across the room cracks.

 

In the morning light, it seems less obvious. But when he goes back to training, he holds a renewed resentment deep within him, festering away.

 

* * *

 

In the interrogation room of the Starkiller, Kylo Ren feels a strange sense of pride at how well Poe Dameron has stood up to interrogation techniques. His affections, while youthful and sentimental, had been well-placed. He’d chosen someone strong. Most don’t hold up to the interrogation droids alone. He can see blood drying on his temple, bruises forming on exposed skin, burn marks on his neck.

Poe is mostly how he remembers him. Some young features have filled out. He has a few more wrinkles, and the cocky look he’d always had now has an unspoken sense of experience to back it up.

His eyes, when he looks up at Kylo, are still bright as ever.

It isn’t overly difficult to take the location of the map from him, but it isn’t as easy as it would be with most who aren’t Force sensitive. Kylo is impressed, relatively speaking. And when Poe slumps back down in his restraints, Kylo is left with the question of what to do with him.

Death is the obvious answer. It’s standard protocol for what they do with their prisoners after they’ve outlived their usefulness. Kylo can kill him with a flick of his wrist. Or by lightsaber, if he’s feeling a bit more dramatic.

He stretches out his hand. Poe lifts his head and bares his teeth at him, and Kylo hesitates.

_You can have anything your heart desires_. It had been promised to him, when he joined the dark side. And when that promise had been made, his desires had included a dark-haired young pilot.

He thinks of torturing Poe for rejecting him, breaking him completely. He thinks of making Poe wanton and needy, begging for Kylo’s touch. Neither of these images hold much appeal for him, and he prepares to make the gesture that will snap Poe’s neck.

Suddenly, he thinks of Poe waiting for him back in his quarters. Of a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek when he returns and a _how was your day, buddy?_

His hand stays where it is.

Then, it flexes.

Poe grits his teeth and throws his head back at the first intrusion into his mind. He finally starts screaming as Kylo twists connections already built and forges new ones. As he rearranges the inside of Poe’s mind to leave a hole that he’ll fit into quite nicely.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't really blame young Ben, I'd probably get a huge crush on Poe when I was his age too. It probably wouldn't push me towards mass murder, though.
> 
> There will be another fic (which will actually have smut) and possibly a third. Stay tuned.
> 
> If you'd like to talk, I have a [tumblr](http://mixxtapej.tumblr.com) and I always welcome conversation. I also might be opening fic commissions soon, so. Keep that in mind.


End file.
